


Tumblr fic, the broken biscuit edition

by Batwaffle



Series: Hartwin Trash Party [3]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M, Past Domestic Violence, Will add tags as apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4953931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batwaffle/pseuds/Batwaffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Broken biscuits, short and sweet. Just like most of these ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tumblr fic, the broken biscuit edition

It should have been raining when Eggsy ran out into the street. By rights, it ought to have been a freezing winter's night, sleet or rain pouring down in sheets, slicking Eggsy's jeans and hoodie in an instant.

Instead, it was a muggy, warm summer's night when Eggsy fled Harry's house, face blotchy and red, eyes swelling.

They'd been rowing, as of late. More and more and more, with less and less and less understanding of just why. The silences between them had begun to feel fraught, instead of comfortable, as thought tjey wrrw just unstable truces to patch wounds before opening fire again.

Tonight was one of those nights. They ate dinner in an uncomfortable, rigid silence, before Eggsy's phone had chimed a notification, which he'd promptly checked.

"What?" He bristled, back already up at Harry's disapproving look. "Like it's any different from you doin' yer Arthur paperwork at home." Harry's frown only deepened.  
"Our jobs _do_ necessitate a certain bleeding of home and work boundaries, Eggsy." Rudely, Eggsy snorted.  
"Harry, if I wake up in the night, I see ya with yer glasses on and tablet in hand. In our _bed_ , Harry. How the everlovin' fuck does a text from Ryan even square up to that?"

And just like that, they were off. The row shifted from the original issue into addressing a thousand tiny microaggressions - _The lid being left off the toothpaste even though I've asked you and **asked** you, Eggsy,_ to _Your fucking creepy dead dog Harry, I mean Jesus_ \- Until they're standing, spitting venom at each other, as they shout one another down.

They continue in that vein until Harry snaps, and strides quickly forwards towards Eggsy, even as Eggsy flinches backwards instinctually.

It's not Eggsy he stops at, though, not the young man trying to stamp down the scared boy, back flat against the front door and breathing fast.  
It's the bowl of keys besides him.

Harry, movements lacking their usual grace, thrusts the key at him - One Eggsy recognises as the front door key to his mother's new house - His face remaining blank and smooth, eyes unfathomable, even as Eggsy flinches away again.

"Stay at your mother's tonight. We'll - "  
"Sort this mess out in the morning?", Eggsy sneers, contempt on his face, before it gives way to something sad, and broken. "Yeah", he says, quietly, as if to himself, then wipes at his eyes with his knuckles. "Yeah, I know the drill, 'Arry."

Something flickers in Harry's eyes, and he reaches out as if to touch Eggsy. This time Eggsy doesn't flinch away.

He just looks at Harry's hand,as tears roll down his cheeks. Just looks at it hovering on the air between them, until Harry returns it to his side.

Not with a bang but with a whimper, Eggsy Unwin slips out of Harry Hart's life into the warm, claggy summer's night.


End file.
